Competition
by Jenny70529
Summary: Greg and Sara spend a day indulging in friendly competition. Random fluffy Sandle. One Shot.


_Author's Notes: ...Just another random little Sandle fluff fic...Reviews are always appreciated..._

_Jenny_

**Competition:**

"Would you like a score card?" The teenage clerk asked, leaning against the counter as Greg signed the credit card receipt, "You know, to like keep score and stuff?"

"Of course we do!" Sara announced, taking the white card and small pencil from the girl, "Who plays miniature golf without a score card?"

Greg took the putters and balls from the clerk, following Sara outside while muttering, "People who want to make it through a date without fighting."

"What did you say?" Sara asked, turning around and taking the orange ball and black putter from her boyfriend, "I haven't done this in years!"

Greg smiled, silently following her to the first course. While she hadn't played in years, he had played fairly recently. Now he was stuck with a horrible decision to make. Should he try his best and beat her, evoking the sore losing personality he knew she had buried inside of her, or should be let her win, only to be taunted all night because she beat him?

As she took her 9th hit at the small orange ball, a frown on her face, he knew there was no way he'd be able to play this badly and look as if he wasn't letting her win.

"You're so close, baby." Greg called out calmly, "Gently tap it."

Sara took a swing and the ball rolled three feet, coming close to the hole, but not into it.

"I said gently." Greg reminded, unable to hide his grin, "You know, there are people waiting to go after us."

"Shut up!" Sara replied, leading the ball into the hole, "Okay, that's what, six for me?"

Greg raised an eyebrow, holding up both his hands, "Try ten, Sar."

"There's no way."Sara replied indignantly, "Six, maybe seven."

Greg shook his head, "It took you four to get to this side, where the hole is, and another six to actually get it into the whole."

"I hate this game." Sara huffed, stepping back while Greg took a swing towards his blue ball. Her jaw dropped as it rolled directly into the hole, causing Greg to let out a triumphant whoop of joy. "I hate you."

Greg nudged her, leading her to the next course, a grin on his face, "You just need to get the hang of it, you're only 9 points behind."

"Only." Sara muttered, gazing over the course, "There's no way I can do this."

Greg motioned towards the water puddle a few inches away from the hole, "You get penalized an extra stroke if you go into that water."

"Are you serious?" Sara asked, raising an eyebrow, "You're making up rules now."

Greg pointed at a white sign near the hole which clearly stated his rule, "Just concentrate, Sara. It shouldn't be too hard...weren't you a physics major in college?"

"I can't believe we're playing some kid game on our date. What kind of losers are we?" Sara replied, changing the topic as she studied the ball. Muttering softly, she hissed, "Now you go in that hole."

Unable to resist teasing his super-competitive girlfriend, Greg goaded, "Are you talking to your ball?"

"I could make a horribly inappropriate comment about our sex life if you don't watch it." Sara replied without missing a beat, "Get out of my way."

"I'm standing a foot behind you." Greg replied, moments before getting whacked in the knee by her putter, "That's going to leave a mark."

Sara took a swing, and for a moment it had a chance of skipping over the water and into the hole, but instead it kept traveling in the air, over the wooden railing and into the dirt near the outside fence.

"Play it where it lies!" Greg called out as she stomped to retrieve her ball, "Game rules!"

The ball barely missed him as he ducked out of the way.

"I'm redoing it." Sara complained, "I hate this game."

Greg stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her and putting his hands onto her club, "Let me help you, Sara. This isn't the PGA, you need to try to keep it on the ground."

"Then it will go into the water." Sara replied, starting to get frustrated, but melting into Greg's embrace at the same time, "How can you be so good at such a stupid game?"

Greg rolled his eyes, "Stop being a sore loser."

"I haven't lost yet." Sara replied cooly, trailing off as her mouth dropped open. With Greg's guidance, she only remained half an inch from the hole, "How did you--?"

Greg shrugged, "I'm an old pro at this game. We used to go to Florida every summer for our family vacation, and the hotel we stayed at had a put-put course on it. My sister and I would play for hours, it's just something that takes practice."

"Cheater."

"How is that cheating?" Greg asked as they progressed to the next hole, "I haven't been there in 15 years."

Sara raised an eyebrow, "But you've played since then. Cheating by omission...you didn't tell me you were awesome at the game."

"That's not cheating." Greg replied, shaking his head with a laugh, "Who knew you were so competitive?"

"You did!" Sara replied, walking to the ball and tapping into the hole, "And yet you brought me somewhere where I was bound to lose. Are you looking not to get any?"

"On the contrary, you getting all fierce and competitive usually puts you in the mood." Greg replied with a smirk, earning a whack with the putter as Sara moved back to the scorecard, "Sara, three. Greg, it's your turn."

Smugly, Greg placed his ball down, taking a confident swing. As the ball plopped into the water, Sara turned to him with a laugh, "Play it where it lies, Greg. Game rules. And what was that? A one stroke penalty?"

"Shut up." Greg replied with a frown, reaching into the dirty water to retrieve his ball. Taking another swing, the ball circled the hole before rolling right back into the water. With a scowl, he tried to block out Sara's laughter and teasing.

Leaning over his shoulder, Sara whispered softly into his ear, "Be careful, baby, I'm only 8 strokes behind and there's still 16 more holes to go."

"You're making me nervous."

"That's the point."

"Next time, we're going to the movies."

An hour later, Sara triumphantly handed her ball and putter back to the bored clerk, who placed them into a basket behind her, "Had a good time?"

"The best." Sara replied, waving the scorecard in Greg's face, "At least, I did."

Greg scowled, sliding his credit card out once more, "I want a rematch."

"I'm not playing miniature golf again." Sara declared, taking his putter and ball and handing it to the clerk, "You're crazy if you think I'm going through that again."

Greg shook his head, motioning towards the door, "Water balloon wars."

--

"You're late." Grissom said sharply as Greg and Sara walked into the break room, where everyone else was already seated.

Nick raised an eyebrow, taking in their bedraggled appearances, "And wet."

"Wet?" Grissom asked, finally raising his eyes to the pair. "What's going on?"

Sara blushed slightly, running her fingers through her half-dry wavy hair, "We were late, we didn't have a chance to change before coming in for assignments."

"Well, hurry and go change, we have a busy night tonight." Grissom replied with a frown, "Honestly, I thought you two were more responsible than this."

"If Little Miss Competitive here wouldn't have pummeled me 13 times with water balloons, we would have been here on time." Greg huffed, walking towards the door.

Sara's eyes narrowed as she followed, "Because it took no time at all to wring myself out after you poured your entire bucket of balloons over my head, genius?"

They disappeared down the hall, still bickering playfully, leaving the rest to watch with half-smiles on their faces. Shaking his head with a wry smile, Grissom sighed, "At least we can say that there hasn't been a dull moment since the two of them started dating."

The End.


End file.
